Occasionally, I gave up.

And every time I said goodbye –

that was when I learnt how to cry.



We taught each other how to get to the closest hell.

We chose the short cut and the twisted spell.

And I could have broken you at the start,

but you had a such good heart.



Now I walk around

with my face behind my frown.

Yet I see faces of need,

staring at me from the bastards’ seats.



What could help with the case

of us creating this mess?

I wish one of us knew best.



All I said and done has left me out.

Better find a better way than go without.




July 2016